


Conner Kent

by writingtheworks



Series: the c in DC stands for "cringey" [8]
Category: Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 11:39:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtheworks/pseuds/writingtheworks
Summary: Kon fics from my reader-insert Tumblr days. Enjoy!





	1. The First Few

**Author's Note:**

> Kon stares a lot. You definitely notice.

When presented with both you and the object you are holding, all Conner can do is stare. You’ve noticed that he does that a lot lately. At the plant life outside the mountain, the water as it spills out of the spout in the kitchen sink, the sunlight as it escapes through the windows of your car. Most notably, he stares at you. You caught him the morning, eyes dazed as he looked at your face and then focussing when he discovered he was caught. But he was never one to back down and immediately accepted your surprised peering as a contest. Whoever looked away first was the chicken, but after what felt like a full minute of staring, Canary called everyone down for training and you were pulled away from each other’s gazes. **  
**

Now, it is the same thing. Except he has an eyebrow raised and his head is inclined to the side, and you’re not blushing and staring at him like an idiot, as this time you are smiling—even if his lingering gaze is making it slope awkwardly.

Conner finally looked away from your face, and you grinned at the subtle victory. But then his eyes fell on your arm and you knew that he noticed. Any person with supervision and hearing would notice. He nodded to your shoulder as you subconsciously held it,”I um, I heard it dislocate when you and M’Gann were training…” He coughed,”I don’t have x-ray vision, but I still think I can… help. If you want me too.” Conner said gruffly.

You could still hear M’gann’s rapid apologies flying through your mind. But of course you used that kindness and worry against her, surprising her through your not-so-faked pain by swiping at her stomach and sending her flying backward just as she had done to you. You could also remember the way you glanced at Conner during this sparring session, and then brushed it off by sweeping your eyes over M’Gann and helping her up,” _There. Now we’re even_.”

Conner had ventured into your room after he saw the way M’Gann through you during training. Even if you didn’t show it on your face and were a master at hiding it, his supervision gave him access to your microexpressions, and he could hear the way your bones ground uncomfortably against one another. You invitingly waved him forward, rubbing your reddening arm painfully,”If you could Kon, that would be so sweet of you. Do you know how to?”

“Canary taught me a while back.” Conner said, a proud smile easing onto his face. You must have been through this procedure too many times to count, as sat down and attempted to relax before he could instruct you too. He felt the embarrassed sensitivity flutter and decline from the air as you both hesitantly exhaled comfort.

He began by gradually raising your arm from his place in your desk chair, so light in his powerful hands. He had you plant your hand against the wall and swept your hair off of your shoulder in order to get access,”So. What’s in the box?”

You gave a brief glance to the slim, rectangular box lying behind you on the bed. The side with  _Conner_ written in neat letters was face-down, but that didn’t stop you from informing him that it was his, and that he was going to open it as a gift for repairing your shoulder. You explained it’s origins—you picked a few things up while you and Artemis went to the mall a while back, and then put something together for him—and tried not to focus on just how close he was, how strong whatever cologne he was wearing was. You had to withhold the urge to breathe it in as deeply as you wanted to.

“Well, I’m gonna guess and say that you didn’t get it for the next time that I helped with your shoulder.” Conner smirked. You laughed into your free palm, settling into a safety that you almost didn’t expect. Conner could easily damage your arm more than it already was. And yet when his hand gently rests upon your injury, you feel  _safe_ and most definitely in the right hands.

“No… I made it for—” You looked down to avoid his expectant eyes,”—I-I’ll explain once you open it.”

“Can’t wait.” Conner said. Your blush traveled from your cheeks to your neck and ears; he gently cupped your neck for some leverage, but then realized that wasn’t a good position and almost  _cheekily_ extended his hand. When you looked down at it in confusion, he just chimed,”You’re gonna need it.”

Conner’s hand loosely encased your own, and the memories of having a dislocated shoulder repaired surfaced, accompanied by a faint phantom pain in your already throbbing arm. This was going to  _hurt_ , and Conner’s hand was the perfect stress ball.

He did that odd thing again where he just  _stared_ , and since he was so close you hoped that he would kiss you. So when Conner does, like the graze of a butterfly’s wings, your eyes go wide and your body tenses excitedly. But then you’re forced to break away from his kiss with the harsh  _snap_ of your relocated bone, loudly completed with your exclamation of pain,” _Ah!_ ”

“You _asshole!_ ” You whispered harshly, and Conner grins when you smack his arm with your newly healed limb. You turn your blazing face away from his and try to push down your own smile,”… What if someone saw you?”

“I didn’t hear anyone coming.” Conner excused innocently, your other hand still knotted with his, which he rests on his thigh.”Even if I did, my distraction worked.” He said. It made you wanna kiss the smug expression off his face. But that had been your _second kiss ever_ —and as it was one of his first kisses too, there was no way he could blame you for being so embarrassed. First kisses were supposed to be shared under the protection of solitude.

You looked at him with a pout. He returned the look with a cuter parody and a squeeze of your hand. The action makes your heart race and your legs shake with nerves, the way it has and probably always will. That’s what made his angry, growly reputation so hard to take seriously, especially if he was so  _soft_ when he smiled. Maybe your gift would help with that…

“Well, thank you, Kon.” You reached behind you and retrieved the box, rubbing the dying wisps of pain from your arm as an ache began to flare beneath your skin. Conner took it and admired your handwriting with that tender smile on his face. You liked this Kon more than anything, with his gentle fingers and even gentler eyes.

“When you… When you said that you wanted something to add to your costume, I saw this and immediately thought of you.” You admitted, gently kneading the stinging from your muscles. It was a wonderful excuse to not get caught in those eyes.  _Why must they always be so blue?_  You asked yourself.”And I know we’ve been together for only two weeks… but, I thought it would be nice to get you something.”

Conner felt it first, a strong, all-black material. And then tightly-woven threads, bound together in the shape of a shield on the back of the item. He pulled it from the box to reveal a cropped leather jacket, the backside emblazoned with the House of El’s crest. Conner immediately leaped from his chair, pulling it around his strong shoulders as he strode over to the mirror. It was even cuter, to watch him twist and turn and try and get a good look at it on him from every angle. You joined his side to watch his reflection, and then you laughed and blushed into your hands when he began to flex.

It looked good on him.  _Right_. Rebellious and powerful all at once, hugging his strong arms and broad shoulders like it was made for him. It was so new you could almost see your reflection where the light bounced off of the sleeves, and it carried that new leather smell you knew would cling to him for days. Finally, he set his hands on his hips and became instantly sassier with the punk jacket on. He nodded in approval of himself.”I like it.”

“Good.” You brought your face from your hands and swept your hair out of your eyes, grinning, so hard your cheeks were beginning to ache too. Conner caught your reflection in the mirror, turning to face you with a bubbly air around him.

“You’re amazing.” He breathed.

“You’re sweet.” You murmured.

This time, when he stares, it’s not as uncomfortable nor as long. He then offers his hand again and smirks,”Go on a bike ride with me?”

You slip your hand into his and step forward when he pulls you into him, smirking into his neck and breathing in the combined scent of him and leather,”This jacket isn’t going to turn you into a bad boy, is it?”

He turns his cheek so his lips ghost against your ear, teasing,”What if I already was?”

You giggle and snicker as you push yourself away from him, your fingers still knotted as they always seem to be. Looking up at him through your height difference, you carefully plant your hand on your hip to mirror him,”Then I think I might have a type… “


	2. Functionally Invisible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N Kent was always the quiet eyes that you never really noticed. She was born a couple years before Conner had been found, always hiding behind Lois’s legs or under Clark’s cape, peeking at him curiously from her hiding place… Or maybe peaking wasn’t the right word. It was more like observing, as she always seemed to be analyzing the world instead of just plain looking. It made her a smart kid.

Conner has never been good with words when it comes to him. There’s always so much to say, so much to ask, and some part of his brain scrambles into programmed whispers whenever Clark flies onto the scene.  _You’re better than him,_ they say,  _you’re meant to defeat him_ , they promise,  _he’s a threat_. But that’s Cadmus talking, and he’s learned how to drown it all out by now. Maybe he’s crazy. Maybe he’s not to be trusted. But whatever it is, it is behind him.

Lois he’d met. At first, she was abuzz with personal questions, already prying away at his layers like Clark had said she would.  _She’s a reporter_ , he dismissed,  _it’s in her blood_. He’s unsure if he likes Lois, with her gift of getting the truth out of you without your permission a stark contrast to his need for secrecy. But she still invites him over, still reserves the spare bedroom in their farmhouse for him. That, he will be forever grateful for.

Conner knows he likes the farm. He  _loves_ it there. It had once made him feel grounded, rooted into the dirt and unable to fly, watching as the family he was supposed to be apart of fly up into the sun. Clark’s definition of “grounded” has always been different from Conner’s. He never knew he was supposed to fly, that he could until his feet were off the ground. With all the powers wound in their blood and knitted into his DNA it sometimes felt impossible to be human at all; but that’s what the farm was for. The earth beneath your shoes and the way it makes you remember where you’re from. A breeze, always there, always watching and listening, guiding you back to easier memories. Beautiful sunsets, making even the biggest of hearts feel small. The farm brought out the human part of all of them; of Clark, of Kara, of Jon, of Conner. And especially of Y/N who, like Conner, was an outsider in her own way.

Y/N Kent was always the quiet eyes that you never really noticed. She was born a couple years before Conner had been found, always hiding behind Lois’s legs or under Clark’s cape, peeking at him curiously from her hiding place… Or maybe  _peaking_ wasn’t the right word. It was more like  _observing_ , as she always seemed to be analyzing the world instead of just plain looking. It made her a smart kid. If Conner thought back, she’d been there for a lot of the big things that he had been there for. The major Justice League battles, Earthen invasions, Batman’s consistency plans. She was always there, quiet and to herself, before she would speak up and say something far too wise for her age. She had those ghostly E/C eyes that were startlingly  _Lois_ , calculating and making sure that you knew that she knew everything. Conner swore sometimes that she could read minds. Maybe she could—she didn’t talk enough to let him know.

That could be a lie, however. She talked a lot on the farm. The few family dinners Conner had been present for were always full of boisterous laughter. He remembered fondly Jon babbling somewhere in the background, Lois cooing at the baby boy, both pausing to listen as Clark tackled Y/N and wrestled her to the ground. Her laughter broke into fractured shrieks and squeals of delight, exclaiming,”Dad—stop  _tickling_ me! Don’t—” She’d squeal between words once Clark found her weakness,”—don’t make me use my  _heat vision!_ ”

They didn’t talk much. Y/N wasn’t really good with new people, and somewhere along the line he heard Lois say something about  _social anxiety,_ so when Conner was first around she barely acknowledged him. He felt bad to say it, but he almost forgot she was there sometimes. When she’d finally started to come around, he’d learned that he wasn’t all that good with words either. Especially when it came to talking to his little sister.

“ _You’re real quiet,” Conner said. He winced—didn’t he come out to befriend her? They were technically siblings. Like siblings. Maybe being quiet was a sore subject._

_Y/N hummed in response, shrugging her shoulders and then shrinking back into them. Conner laid against the frame of the stable’s door, eyebrows drawn. He didn’t know a lot about the basics of tending to farm animals, but the horse bumping his nose against Y/N’s shoulder made it clear that he liked her. She began to pull apart the square shape of a cube of hay, depositing it into the trough and occasionally pausing to stroke the horse’s face._

_“Yeah,” She sighed knowingly,”Mom and Dad say I need to talk more.” Then, she laughed. It was a soft sound as not to startle the horse, but it was still clear and powerful, like a ringing bell. She continued with that laugh still clinging to her voice,”Apparently, I’m so quiet people forget I’m there.” When the words enter Conner’s mind he realizes they are bitter instead of blissful. She doesn’t want to be forgotten, but is too shy to act upon her feelings._

But there are times where it’s impossible to forget her. Her invisibility only made everyone underestimate her. But then again, Conner had watched her flick Zod through a couple buildings, and go toe-to-toe with Doomsday before she even got her driver’s license. Another one of those times was less than two hours ago. And man, Conner had never been more happy to see her than in that moment.

_It’d been quiet for hours. Hours. No explosions. No laughing guards, prodding him only because of this new imbued bravery. Conner has no idea where he is. No idea how long he’s been here. The only thing he knows is that his team is coming to get him, that the glass cage he’s in pulses with the light of the red sun, and that he can’t do anything to get himself out. That’s what you get for running off on your own on a mission. Karma always was a few feet behind him, and he’d given it the chance to catch up._

_The guards came into the room every couple hours, pounding their fists on the glass and hollering,_ what are you going to do now, Superboy? Punch your way through the glass? Leap up out of there? Oh wait _, they’d laugh,_ you can’t! _He’d switched from growling threats to pacing, then eventually sat against the wall furthest from the observation room and just_ thought. _About his team. About Clark. About Clark’s two kids, the quiet one always hiding behind capes, and the little one calling himself by the same name Conner does._

 _It’s then that the lights shut off. Just for a second, the tiniest moment, does the hum of electricity and movement pause. Then the backup generator kicks in before Conner can even blink, that red light still pulsing as they rush into the room, yelling orders. He can only smile and think,_ they’re here _. The lockdown drill initiates, and it takes a couple men to close the industrial safety doors and lock them._

_The light pulses. The men get into formation. Their guns train on the door, like a pointillism painting of red dots come to life._

_They start yelling at some point, a wild jumble of words Conner can barely hear above each other. He pushes himself off the wall, powerless and unable to save even himself, brushing the invisible dust off his clothing and beginning to wait. He wonders how they put this together. How long did it take Tim to find him? Knowing him, not too long. How long did it take for them to get here? Knowing Bart, even less time._

_Then comes the screaming. The screaming of metal that is, as it’s pried apart by something—some_ one _, Conner corrects himself._

_It stops, then starts again. The metal peals. The men shuffle and murmur in fear. What is coming?_

_The metal groans a final time. An opening is created by two hands, like a tear in a long line of thread. There is a brief moment of silence as the men swivel to aim. When the sniper’s dots illuminate the House of El’s crest in the darkness, Conner’s heart stops._ Clark? _He asks himself._

 _Then it’s_ her  _eyes in the darkness, glowing white-hot, a trail of energy following her gaze once it sweeps over the room. He could hear a pin drop in the silence. Then, she pries apart the last of the foot-thick steel door and says casually,”Did you know that there is no word for “escape” in my language?”_

 _They fire all at once, an explosion of sound and light. There’s the kick of their weapons and the radiance that follows, hitting her chest and bouncing off, landing on the ground with a thousand little_  plink plink plink plink plink _s like the falling of rain. The fire of their rifles does little to show him what is going on, but some little noises cut between the rapid gunfire. The squeal of gunmetal as it’s bent by her hand. The squeal of men as_ they  _are bent by her hand. And the_ plink plink plink _of the bullets harmlessly flattening against her impenetrable skin._

 _She must get down to the last one eventually, as the generator kicks back in. Y/N Kent, or Supergirl, is standing in the middle of a pile of unconscious bodies. The last man standing triumphantly releases a battle cry and throws his fist at her. She catches it and rolls her eyes, smiling,”Now if the_ bullets  _didn’t work, then why would_ that _?” Y/N simply bops the heel of her palm against his forehead and he’s out, falling onto the floor with the rest of his comrades._

_“Hey, Superboy,” Y/N greeted. Giddily, she brushes aside her cape and plants her hands on her hips,”I’m here to save you.”_

_“I can see that,” Conner says with a laugh, gesturing to the scene she’s created.”Thanks, by the way.”_

_“Trust me, it’s no problem.” Y/N turned her gaze on his containment chamber. It was shaped like a large tupperware, it’s top coiled with wires and pipes wrapped up like massive snakes. She squints and finds the correct wire, before snapping it in two. When the red sun lights power off, she punches a hole into the glass, instantly shattering its entire circumphrence. Y/N grinned,”Let’s get you home.”_

With any other person, he would be jealous. She’s praised by the team once she gets him home (flies him home, which is exilerating. He’d never flown in open-air before.), getting Robin’s thanks, and Batman’s pride.

“We have to get ourselves one of those,” Cassie says jokingly, gesturing to Supergirl, who flares with pride. She looks at Conner and her face says it all;  _I’m not invisible anymore. Look at me!_ But her pride is cut short as a silence hushes over the time with Superman’s entry.

“Where have you been?” Superman pressed, marching towards his daughter,”Your mother and I have been worried sick. You said you’d come home hours ago, and now I’m hearing that you  _broke into a government facility—_ ”

“To save Conner,” She says, bleeding with confidence and pride in herself. Y/N gestured widely to Conner, grinning ear-to-ear,”I overheard talk of him being captured on the team’s coms as I flew by. So I followed Conner’s heartbeat to this place off the border of Canada and got him out!”

Superman sighed, bent down and engulfed her in a hug. She accepted, but the frown on Clark’s face read protective all over. Before he could get into any groundings, Conner delivered out of nowhere,”Really, she did amazing. The team didn’t have a single lead on me, and she finds me within the hour.”

“Also,” Conner put his hand on Supergirl’s shoulder, and she brightens,”I’m pretty sure she made every soldier in a hundred mile radius shit themselves.”

Supergirl starts to laugh and the sound makes Superman smile even if his gaze narrows at the word. Tim grins at Supergirl,”What’d she do?”

Conner recounted Y/N’s actions, turning the girl into a grinning mess. Once Conner finishes, Y/N is half hiding behind him, smiling into his arm. Cassie begins to laugh, bent over and clutching her stomach like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Bart gave Y/N a high-five and said,”If anyone anything like that to me, I’d probably shit myself too.”

“She should the team,” Tim said suddenly, serious as ever.

Supergirl gasped, grinned, and looked up at her father. Before she could even breath a word, Superman had crossed his arms and said expextantly,”Absolutely  _not_.”


	3. At Least, Dreamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Kon, look at me,” you said, gently. He doesn’t at first, and it tears a note in your voice, “Please.”

“This isn’t real,” he says, and it’s almost heartbroken enough to be true.

It’s not just the fact that you’re  _here_ , finally, after months and months of absence, searching space for an adventure and a purpose he couldn’t follow. It’s not that you’re different. Well, that’s still noticeable—the fancy space armor and the new upgrade in the space-cops thing is hard to ignore. But everything’s  _wrong_ , like you traveled back in time just to see him again.

The waves are cool, the rocking motion like a lullaby for the moon in its distorted reflection. It’s beautiful in a way Conner’s never been able to articulate. Like the moon and the water are sliding against each other, comparing the size of their hands only to entangle them under the cover of the night sky. You’re just observers to the romance. But even if you aren’t accustomed to such a thing, Conner definitely is.

He has to remind himself that you’re outside the mountain, sitting on the beach, because when you sigh an, “Oh,  _Conner_ ,” he’s back home again.

Conner—Superboy, because that was the only name he’d taken then—had just got home from patrol, settled his boots on the beach outside the house he shared with Rex and Roxy Leech. Then arms would settle around him. A voice would tease him something fierce, call him the  _Hero of Hawaii_ with that sweetly mocking tone. And he would know them right away, would always know them, like it had been programmed into him from the start for his knees to buckle whenever you looked at him.

He used to joke about it. Maybe you were a failsafe, an early weakness they could exploit at CADMUS had he escaped. But you were too smart and too brave and too sharp for it to work. That part, at least, had been confirmed; no wonder you were accepted into some fancy space-military thing. He was just glad you weren’t a Lantern.

But it’s  _like_ Hawaii, and that’s frustrating. His hair’s all short and he wears a stupid t-shirt now and you’re home from space with your cool ship and your cooler alien friends, and Conner’s been left behind and he doesn’t know what to do. This  _isn’t_ Hawaii. But he desperately wished it was.

“Kon, look at me,” you said, gently. He doesn’t at first, and it tears a note in your voice, “ _Please_.”

Conner tries, and it’s half like looking at a whole new person and half like seeing a ghost. The night is warm and refreshing. You’re out of the armor now, tucked up in an absolutely  _ancient_ hoodie that he’d given to you when you’d first left. He doesn’t know why he stares at it. It is really hard to look new people in the eye, though.

“S.B,” you whispered, and that’s a thousand, hundred, bajillion times worse than a yell. It’s a little funny, too, “ _Please_.”

Conner does look, but he’s wrong. It’s harder to look a ghost in the eye when a part of you knows that they’re still there. Somehow.

He does what he usually does. It’s completing, the easy slip of his fingers against your scalp, through your hair, pulling you in as he has always done. You don’t dare hesitate to kiss him back. Instead, your fingers fumble around his chest in search of leather lapels that aren’t there anymore. So you grab his shoulders. Palm his neck. And that’s a thousand, hundred, bajillion times more intimate.

“I’m sorry,” you tell each other at the same time as you pull away. The laugh that follows is weak, but at least it’s genuine.

“Me first,” you claimed. You stop yourself before you start again, taking the little unsure flutters of his hands on your hips and planting them down into place, a silent promise. “I’m sorry I didn’t call or visit enough. There was this refugee planet, and this  _insane_ guard, but… There’s no excuse. I should have… I should have  _been_ here.”

“I should have tried harder to  _get_ to you,” Conner countered, but you shook your head.

“No, Conner. That’s not how this works. You have a family, here—a-a  _life_ , and a duty here on Earth,” you waved your thumb, other fingers still unsure if they should leave his skin yet, “The only thing I have left on Earth is  _you_. So, I should come here. Why make you leave?”

“You say all that like if I  _do_  leave with you we’re never coming back,” Conner said. He laughed, humorless and almost a little panicked. “ _Please_ tell me you’re coming back after your next space-mission-thing—and okay,  _what_ exactly is this thing again?”

You recoiled, quickly, as if terrified of the idea in the most literal way. “I would  _never_ abandon you like that. The core I’m apart of is almost universally wide, and is  _like_ the Lanterns, but you get to enroll of your own choosing—and drop out anytime, like a normal police academy. But… in space.”

His shoulders flopped, because that sounded  _ridiculously_ cool, and the dramatic entry you busted in with a couple of hours ago only slapped on the awesome label. You weren’t just  _Dreamer_ anymore, the pretty superhero who Conner pretended he was “training” for Cadmus even if it was the other way around. You were  _Captain_ L/N. You lead a squadron, and you had that cool armor, and the cool alien friends. Guilt and something like selfishness welled up in his gut like a bubble that just wouldn’t pop.

“Don’t give that up for me,” Conner urged suddenly. He closed his eyes and whispered the special little word you’d always seemed to whisper to each other, “ _Please_. Space—the stars—your whole astronaut deal has always been your dream. Don’t you dare suggest what I think you’re thinking, Y/N.”

Your hands are on his shoulders again, and they wobble him for a bit, trying to shake the sense into him even if he won’t budge. “ _You_ are my dream. Conner, if you feel like this won’t work with me out there, then I will do  _anything_ to make it.”

He melted, because that couldn’t be true, but it was still blissfully and epically  _rom-com_ romantic. You had always been looking up; whispering little scientific details about the moon to him, telling him secrets about light and refraction and stars, sharing wishes with him about your hopes for the sky above.

Conner always happened to be somewhere in your sky, though.

“Woah—is that what you’ve been worried about all this time?” Conner said. He took a step back, trying to shift under the moonlight as to get a clearer image of your face. “You thought I was gonna leave you?”

It was clear that your stomach turned over, the look on your face alone enough to tell him the truth. Worse: it was… plain, and there, and  _pure_. Like it was obvious.

“What else were you supposed to do?” You whispered, bunching your fingers, “I leave for months and reappear without much warning, my messages are scarce, and… and… Isn’t it obvious, Kon? How are you even still in  _love_ with me, after all that I’ve missed and all that I’ve done?”

The words were steel in comparison to feathers. He swears he drops a couple inches with the weight of how that hits him.

“But… if there’s even a chance that I can fix things…” You trailed off.

Conner starts shaking his head, regardless of how dizzy it makes him. Is it possible to feel this sick without throwing up or something? It’s like there’s a goddamn stone in his stomach. “This is gonna sound  _so_ lame… but I’m in love with you. I am. There’s not a lot that could take me away from you.”

There seem to be more questions behind your eyes, and you’re so determined he doesn’t doubt that he’s going to get an earful of them, but the expression pulls together into something teasing.  _His_ Y/N comes back to him, Hawaii or not.

“Not much?” You echoed.

Conner smiled, biting his lip in a mock-awkward manner. “I mean… I could  _really_ go for a burger right now…”

You stared at him, blankly. And then you start laughing, and it’s so bright and beautiful that Conner’s convinced the birds are going to start chirping like it’s morning again. “You had to ruin the moment, didn’t you?”

He wraps his arms around you and looks up at the moon. He knows that if he asks, you’ll tell him about it. The details can wait.

So, he does. Your eyes light up, and you start whispering little secrets to him again, like he’s the only person in the whole universe who understands. Soon, it’s not about the moon anymore. It’s about the planets. And the stars. And the sun. And then, you ask him how he is, and you listen to your dream.

And that’s a thousand, hundred, bajillion times better.


End file.
